Long Live
by Evil Lil' Katbird
Summary: Namor must save Atlantis from a corrupt corperate head and his fanatical followers. [DONE!]
1. I

**"Long Live"**   
  
Prequel to "Talking", and starts off the series chronology-wise.   
  
Historical note to anyone reading this - the series itself is set in 2012, which, for all rights and purposes of this series, is in the future. "Long Live" (Namor) and "White Knight" (Hammond) are set in 2003, which is now. (Just in case anyone reading this somehow stumbles across it in, say, five years... *mocking laughter from offscreen* It COULD happen! *more laughter* Grrr...)   
  
  
  
Humans, by nature, are destructive creatures. Even inadvertantly, they do things which harm others, harm themselves, and very often do not realize it until it is too late.   
  
Oil slicks half an inch thick covered most of the East Coast shoreline. Two tankers in succession had ruptured their hulls a few miles out to sea. Part of the aging European fleet. Partially to blame because the US denied a loan to replace the tankers after the last large oil spill. It was structural integrity failure.   
  
The White House wouldn't buy that. More precisely, it couldn't sell it to its local media.   
  
So, as in many times of crisis, Washington decided to fabricate information. Reports went around that the recent peace talks with Atlantis had "gone poorly" and that there was "due suspicion" that the undersea nation could be to blame. They then went on to the tankers themselves: They went down over a small coral reef - a perfect place for Atlantian subs lying in wait. One of the tanker's logs mentioned a strange creature in the water not two nights before the accident - some leviathan under the controll of the Sub-Mariner?   
  
From this, a new hero of the people emerged, an "honest corperate head" who only saw the the greater good of humanity in mind. Franklin Aeyson had graduated first in his class from Harvard, served his time in the Air Force, and had commendations from three presidents. He charmed everyone he met with his good Christian politeness and manners. The public ate him up. And soon, they saw fit to rally behind him for just about anything. He spoke out against the Atlantian menace, and with his deathly loyal followers, was able to sway a suprime court desision to ban US oil drilling in Atlantian waters. "For," he said, "any nation that is so far spread as to claim half the globe as its own does not function as one nation." That left 'Atlantian territory' in International Waters, and to the tender mercy of Aeyson and the major oil companies.   
  
  
  
The scattered colony of Anat Tir had grown up around the migrating routes of humpbacks for many years. Although still realitively small and disorganized compared to some of the other Atlantian cities, its people were happy. They lived simple lives, content with their seagrass farms and tiny agora where the local merchants showed off their wares. Children swam in the spaces between the buildings, playing something similar to lacrosse with coral rackets and a small hermet crab shell. One of the children tossed the shell up and over a small mud wall. The others gave case, but coming to the otherside, could not spot it. Then, something shining beneath the sand. One of the boys bent down to dust it off. It was strange - metal, he knew, from the surfaceworld. Round, like a discus, and with an upraised part in the center. He pressed it to no effect. The others laughed - it was nothing. And the boy laughed too. Foolish landcrawlers, leaving things for children to find. And the boy stood up, releasing his pressure on the upraised disc. The explosion rocked the nearby dwellings and crumbled the mud wall into silt.   
  
  
  
A more somber mood could never have been found as in the Atlantian throne room when word of Anat Tir came. Prince Namor sat upon his throne with a heavy heart, for he and all his power could not have stopped the mines that had been planted there, that had now claimed a third of the town's population. The town itself had been evacuated, but minesweeping had always been a skill of the surfacemen, and Namor saw little gain in risking more lives to remove the mines already set.   
  
Nita swam up to her cousin's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, acknowlaging her, but nothing else. "Namor, have they... found out who has done this? Attuma? Ker-"   
  
"I know who, Cousin," he said gravely. "The answer is clear in the shining metal." When she did not reply, he went on, "You know well that no Atlantian hand can forge such a flawless and intricate weapon down in these depths. We have always relied on the surfacemen..." He paused, almost flinching visibly at the mere thought of a human, "...relied on them to make the weapons for us. Microcircuitry is an unknown thing here."   
  
"But I thought that we were on good terms with the UN? The last time you sent a diplomat, they had no complaints," the small Atlantian moved to sit on the arm of the great golden throne.   
  
"No... But it appears that they have changed their two-faced ways yet again, the dogs!" He stood and moved towards an open arch that overlooked the main street of the city.   
  
Nita winced, "Namor, what's happened is terrible, but please don't-" he was gone, "...act hastily. Damnit."   
  
  
  
The former Annat Tir now swam with men in SCUBA gear and small mini-subs piloted from huge ships above. Crews worked overtime to clear away both rubble and mines, and to get the foundation laid for a new oil rig. With so much commotion and so many divers, it was easy for one man to go unnoticed just beyond the coral. But Namor was never a man to go unnoticed for long.   
  
"Imperius Rex!" In one fluid movement, he'd launched himself out from behind the jutting coral and grabbed onto the cord of one of the small unmanned submersibles, ripping it from the ship above. He then swung it overhead and tossed it back at the ship. It tore straight through the hull, dooming its parent. The divers began to panic, unhooking the spearguns from their belts. They were told there may be some minor resistance, but this-!   
  
The spears did little but to bring the Prince's wraith apon them as well. "Murderers!" He cried, "An armed taskforce to take my kingdom from me! A fool's errand that will cost you all your lives!"   
  
The fleeing fleet of ships were let one last amazing sight, that of men flying, propelled straight out of the water onto their decks from a good hundred feet off, before their own engines fell quiet.   
  
  
  
"Atlantis is no threat. They'll balk, but given time-"   
  
"These actions- no, attacks, are unacceptable! Americans are dead! You cannot deny that Atlantis is an international hazard!"   
  
"Mr Aeyson, you will observe the laws set in this debate and keep your voice to a reasonable tone," the older man sat back into his wooden chair, face stern set at the other. The debate between Aeyson and Senator Blackwood had barely begun, and already it looked as though it would end in riot. Aeyson, a good friend of the ailing Sen. Yoshimitzu, had taken his place in the debate after he'd taken ill. The public held the corperate head in such high regard as their "common man in politics" (a flawed title if there ever was one) that the decision went through without a hitch. And that left Harold Thane, a former senator himself and one-time judge to, well, he considered himself more a referee than anything between the two men.   
  
"You would silence the truth?" Aeyson demanded of Blackwood, his voice lowered but his tone even more vile than before.   
  
Blackwood snorted from behind his handlebar moustache, "I do not pretend that they are not a mild... inconvienance. But they are no more a threat than the other small rebel groups we have cleared from our oil properties."   
  
While Aeyson responded to this, flustered and sputtering with rage, Thane could only sigh at the two - neither were even mildly appealing to him. Republicans both of them, and surely they were dug from the bottom of the barrell, at that! To think that this debate could decide which would grab the Presidential nomination! Or, in the more right case, Aeyson would be nabbing it for Yoshimitzu, but he knew that like all of the recent Presidential candidates, Aeyson would either be his Vice President, or his most trusted advisor.   
  
"And," Aeyson demanded roughly, "what of the Sub-Mariner?" He motioned to the window with a showy sweep of his hand, punctuating his points with jabbing motions towards it, "He has flooded New York dozens of times! He has killed innocent people on American land! He has led armies, seeking to conquor us! He alone could cripple most of our Atlantic fleet! And you say that the Atlantians are no threat?!"   
  
"Must I ask you again, Mr. Aeyson, to-"   
  
Aeyson continued, heedless, "I saw we take care of them now, send SHIELD or some other organization to deal with them before they decide to bring their war with us home!"   
  
The audience stood, cheering him. Across America, millions of TVs tuned in were witness to the same. And from his place in front of Blackwood and Thane, Aeyson smiled to himself.   
  
  
  
It didn't take long for the UN to give in to the United States' pressure. Atlantis was very suddenly shut out from all nagotiations both there and abroad. The nation itself was under very real attack - oil wells were being dug in their waters, platforms set up which spewed out waste that was very often deadly. It seemed that the whole world was against them.   
  
  
  
Nita curled herself into a tight ball in her cousin's throne. She had no idea where Namor was, and although a capable leader in her own right, she was frightened. Their city, their country seemed doomed to be overrun by the surfacemen. Namor had left over a week ago in a rage at the happenings at Anat Tir, and had not returned since. They could not afford to have their leader gone in such a trying time. Refugees flooded in from the small city-colonies that had been distoyed or poisoned. The people were panicing, talking of riot or worse. Vashti did his best to reassure them, and Nita herself had spoken to them at a small rally, but the fact of it was, if something did not happen soon to stop the air-breathing invaders, Atlantis would not be lost to the surfacemen, but to disorder itself. 


	2. II

Other Note: I do not have a spellcheck on my computer, so any spelling errors I apollogise for now. And to those of you who have told me of them, I now sheepishly go hide in a corner.   
  
  
  
The oil wells were burning. White hot flames licked at the sky, grasping at what little oxygen could get through the thick black smoke. On top of a fallen tower sat a man calmly surveying the destruction that he himself had caused. Namor sighed - with his rage gone, he was suddenly very tired. The reality of the situation finally sat apon his shoulders, and rational thought began to come into his mind once again.   
  
Not that he had time to savour this accomplishment.   
  
To someone whose body can withstand the crushing depths of the ocean, bullets do little more than sting. However, many of them firing in unison can be quite painful. More suprised than injured, Namor glanced over at the source of the barrage. Policemen. At least twenty of them in SWAT gear holding their huge bulletproof shields out in front of them like a Roman legion. Poking out inbetween the shields were rifles, semi-automatics, and many small handguns. The normal nightsticks and tasers would do little against their foe, after all. The rage quickly returned to the Atlantian, and he ripped apart a peice of the tower, tossing it down apon the line of police with a savage yell. Several fell back, while the rest opened fire anew. The bullets only angered him more, and he flew down on them, shoving two back into their own police cars with the force of his blow. They hit and did not move.   
  
"Ah, so the yellow cowards in your nation's capital do not see themselves fit to confront me of their own accord?" He shattered a shield with his fist, "They send not soldiers, but peacekeepers! Men hardly fit to do battle with a Prince of the Blood!" Another policeman was sent into a burning telephone pole, snapping the already weakened wood in two. The top half fell onto a building, setting it aflame. By now the fire from the burning oil had spread, and the choking black smoke had begun to settle down low. In his rage, Namor did not notice when he flew in and out of the smoke clouds to avoid gunfire, nor just how much smoke he was inhaling. He spun around in midair, intending to come back around for the remaining officers, but very suddenly he was dizzy. He faltered, tried to stay aloft, then hit the dirt with a heavy thud.   
  
The prince stood, shaking his head to clear it, breathing heavily to clear his lungs of the horrid smoke. Still suprised at the incident, he did not see the policeman reaching back into his smashed partol car, grab the ever present shotgun from the backseat, and aim it point blank range at his chest. He only felt the amazing force of the weapon, only saw the sparks fly past his eyes, before collapsing to the ground. Weakened by fire, smoke, and rage, he could do little as the policemen gathered around him.   
  
"What should we do with him?" One asked. He sounded older, and his voice gurgled like he was trying to keep down blood.   
  
"Kill the bastard. He'd come after our families next. Bad enough he got the oil," the other man growled deep in his throat in a dog-like way, "big biz won't want this town anymore, oil or not. And how many of our families will starve now? Damn fucking bastard." He punctuated the last insult by kicking dirt in Namor's face.   
  
Namor did not bother to listen to the rest of them as they talked. He snorted through his gills, tried to clear the dust off himself, tried to stand, only to be hit hard by the butt end of of a rifile. He roared and, spinning around and upward with amazing speed, grabbed the rifile out of the man's hand, crushing it as easily as if it were paper. His caught himself a second before he would have backhanded the officer - they would suffer from this. They would suffer from what he had done, just as his people suffered from the misdeeds of a few in Washington. Ashamed, angry, and confused, he flew off.   
  
  
  
"This Prince Namor does not seem to think anything through, eh, Bonnie?" Aeyson turned to his petite blonde secretary. She did not look at him, keeping her attention on filing papers. He went on, "Not that it would help him a whit, but this only solidifies my point. The idiot acctually attacked an oil well on American ground! And from the news reports, he nearly got his head handed to him." His hand shot out and grabbed the secretary by the wrist, "Don't you agree, my dear?"   
  
"Yessir, Mister Aeyson..."   
  
"Don't look so sad. Your mother didn't." The woman pulled free of his grasp and gave him a cold look. She ran from the room and slammed the door. "Women." He pressed the intercom on his desk, "Merri, get my suit ready. The press statement on the Sub-Mariner's latest attack will happen in an hour, and I cannot dissapoint."   
  
  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen of the press," he smiled like a cheshire cat, "I come to you a humble man. I did nothing to stop the Sub-Mariner, but I could have done little. I am only one man." He let its underlying meaning set in before continuing, "Let it be known that I will do everything in my power to help those who have been harmed. And that I will ask that Washington, no, _demand_ that they take action against this hostile nation and its insane ruler! With the people's help, we will all triumph!"   
  
The applause was louder than ever before.   
  
  
  
_'How many must die before they realize?'_ Namor looked out over the sparkling expanse of New York City, _'They are dooming themselves just as much as they are my own nation. Laws passed to attack Atlantis will no sooner be turned on them once we are gone...'_ He stopped and held his head in his hands. This, all of this, was too much. Atlantis had not seen peace in so long, and though she had suffered barbarian attacks and hostile takeovers, she had never been in such a direct threat as now. He could not bear to think that the golden halls would be distroyed once more, more of his people slaughtered - for what? He tried very hard to think past his desire to take out his anger on the city below. It was not an easy task. Too many times had the surfacemen brought harm to his nation, any only now did he stop and ask himself why. Coming up with no answer that satisfied him, he flew off into the night. 


	3. III

"They riot, Vashti," Nita looked out over the crowd of people that had gathered below the palace. "They grow tired of unkept promises, of war that is not war..." She looked at the floor.   
  
Vashti put a hand on her shoulder, "And where is your cousin, young Princess? Has he not returned?"   
  
"Aye, he has."   
  
Nita jerked her head up, suprise written clear on her face, "Namor!" She swam over to him and hung on his arm for support, "I thought you'd left to the surfaceworld for good!"   
  
"Surely you know I would not abandon the kingdom...!" Nita bit her lip and turned her head away. "Cousin," he said as gently as possible, "my duties lie here first. I see that now. It took time - time that was sorely wasted on futile errands - to see that. I have learned things, however, and perhaps we may yet fight the surfacemen on their grounds."   
  
"We must be concerned with Atlantis first," the younger Atlantian said sternly.   
  
"Yes," again the gentle tone, "we will care for Atlantis first." He turned to Vashti, "Friend, rely this message to the ones gathered below: The surfacemen have no place here, and should they not leave, they will be humbled! So swears Namor!"   
  
  
  
  
  
"Have they agreed?" Aeyson looked up at Thane, eyeing the small bundle of papers in his hand more than his face.   
  
"Agreed to your fascist terms, yes. You will fail in this, Mr. Aeyson."   
  
Aeyson grunted, making a grab for the papers. Thane held them just out of reach. He glared at the other man, "I brought you here because the cause needs a Democrat, Thane. Don't mistake my acts to gain leverage for anything but."   
  
Thane sneered, throwing the papers down at Aeyson. They scattered in his lap. "You are a poor actor behind closed doors, Sir. A snake in your lair, but a lion to the people. A chimera to be sure." He turned to leave.   
  
"Don't turn your back on me, Thane! You'll be throwing away your only chance at a revived political career!"   
  
"Better to die with the sheep than dine with the devil," he said dismissively over his shoulder.   
  
Aeyson stared for a moment. But only for a moment. He jumped to his feet, grabbing a mug off his desk and hurling it at the now closed oak door. It shattered into several large pieces. "Proud Democrat. Proud bastard. Proud of his morals. Fucking morals!" Pencils and papers went flying. He stopped and bent down to pick up the paper bundle that had slipped off his lap. The signatures of the Supreme Court and House glared back at him with seemingly still-wet ink. He smirked, 'Those morals of yours, Thane? They don't count for jack in politics.'   
  
  
  
  
  
"From what I have learned from routing about like a common rat in the backalleys of that monstrosity of a city, a man named Franklin Aeyson has been at the head of the movement to both remove Atlantis from the UN and to begin the drilling projects on the outskirts of our borders," Namor rubbed his chin in thought. His assembled advisors sat around a large coral table, listening intently, but he had a feeling none of them would have anything intelligent to say once he was done. "Aeyson is also the head of a large oil company. Back when I had dealings with the humans, with Oracle, I dealt with him. A worm if there ever was such. And, if I had known that he would cost the kingdom so much, I would have crushed the life out of him then!" He froze, knowing that his temper would soon begin to govern his actions. He stood and turned away from the group, "Atlantis will be taken care of, and then I will deal with that lowly creature." The advisors winced, knowing the actions that usually accompanied his tone. "I will expose him for what he is, and disperse his followers."   
  
"You will- will not attack the surfaceworld, my Lord?" One of the advisors spoke up, suprised.   
  
Namor tilted his head back ever so slightly to gaze at him over his shoulder, "No. I will not." Nita smiled from her place at the table. "The humans that do this are under the sway of another and do not act for themselves. Easily manipulated though they are, they are not deserving of any punishment we would give them. There has been too much death."   
  
  
  
Merric allowed himself a smile as he heard the spy's news. It seemed like the mighty prince had finally lost his nerve. _'Good,'_ he thought, turning to his fyrd, _'with Namor tied up in Atlantis after all that's happened, he'll be too busy to note a few hundred of his guard missing.'_ The gathered millitia stirred, noting their leaders' change in mood. As a defector from the royal guard himself, Merric was very seldom in good spirits - those loyal to the crown were constantly after him. He was not only a defector, but a traitor as well. Many times had he provided the vilainous Attumma with information that could have won the barbarian Atlantis. Yes, it was very odd indeed for this Atlantian to be so pleased - the others felt very uncomfortable, and for good reason.   
  
"Sir," one of them asked in a barely audible voice, "are we to take Atlantis?"   
  
"No, you fool. We're going to let the surfacemen handle that for us."   
  
"Sir?"   
  
Merric grinned, "That blowhard Namor has already angered the humans beyond anything he's done before. Why doesn't matter. All that does is that they're ready to launch an all-out war against the Realm. We just need to give them just cause."   
  
"And if they don't?"   
  
He turned, a grimace slowly turning into something more sinister, "My dear lackey, I DO have insurance on these matters."   
  
  
  
The attack was swift and clean. The rebel forces came up from the deep waving the banner of Atlantis, acting in the name of Prince Namor. It was more show than anything, and very little damage was acctually done.   
  
Not that the details _ever_ mattered.   
  
  
  
TBC soon.   
  
_AN: I really intended to write more here, as I had a really nice plot flow after Mark helped me out - Thanks, man! - but school and other things have been bogging me down. After the CAT-6's are out of the way, expect more. This should wrap up fairly soon, and then White Knight will clear up any loose ends._


	4. IV

Aeyson heard the news before the fact, of course. He always did. One ear to the ground and one below it, he had his ways. And by this, he was able to have all the press coverage set up in advance. For him, life was a neverending swirl of media. Dogs that followed him where-ever he went and relayed his message to his hapless masses. He used this to his full advantage and lied with every breath. Thane knew this. Everyone should have known it, but those that did, didn't care. Those that didn't were too stupid to find out on their own.   
  
But the aging Democrat could do little to speak against him. As far as political power went, Thane was nowhere near his former Alpha status, for he had been once, but no longer. His opinions, no matter how much fact backed them, would be ignored. Aeyson was their golden calf; they danced around him, praised him, held on to every word as if gospel.   
  
Why did the wicked prosper so...?   
  
  
  
Bonnie had been Aeyson's secretary for nearly a year. She did all his paper work (for there was much), arranged his appointments, and made sure that no one got in that wasn't supposed to. She did her job. But she did little beyond that. Aeyson was more of a snake than even Thane knew of. Not that anyone who truely knew of Aeyson's life, personal and public, could put anything so sinister past him. For now, Bonnie sat, bidding her time. She knew that Thane was not a friend to her boss. She knew that if the information that she had access to were to ever get out, it would be staggering. But she also had an ace in the hole. It was just what she needed to get her boss, peg him for both his crimes against the world... and against her.   
  
  
  
The following day, Aeyson's speeches were on all the major news channels. CNN, BBC, and NBC had a round-the-clock broadcast of the "War with Atlantis", and replayed the video footage several times an hour. Other major news stations popped in every so often, reminding their viewers that there had been an attack. Aeyson did not speak for the government. He did not have any authority to influence their decisions. But they just did not want to bother. They went along with him as if he were their man. And it was for this reason that they cheered when troop deployments were announced. Was for this reason that they welcomed the extra policing in their neighborhoods. Was for this reason that they willingly gave up their freedoms to a corperation that did not even act on behalf of the government. And it was for this reason that they danced as the world sank into hell.   
  
  
  
"This is an outrage!" The prince grasped the railing of the balcony tightly, almost crushing it. The young Atlantian messenger who stood beside him seemed to shrink back into the shadows. Namor turned to him, "Where are they? Where? I will deal with them myself!"   
  
"They are just beyond the caverns, but Sire, they are an entire army! Something fit to distroy this city, if not the nation! To go against them..." He let it hang.   
  
Nita's voice echoed through the throneroom, "He's right. We need our prince alive." She motioned for the messenger to leave, then turned to her cousin. "You can't possibly face them alone."   
  
He let his head drop, nodding, "I thought that the violence here had subsided. I thought they had been driven off..." For the first time in her life, Nita saw doubt in her cousin's eyes. "But they come again, on some crusade that is beyond all logic and reason! Why must Atlantis forever be their scapegoat?" He suddenly turned and grasped Nita by her shoulders, something akin to shock written on his face. "Can you hold them off, little cousin? Just for one day?"   
  
Confused, Nita slowly nodded, "Yes, I think I could, with Vashti's help-"   
  
"Good, good! I will return by this time tommorrow!" He was already leaping out the balcony and swimming off as he turned back to her again, "Stay well, cousin!"   
  
Nita waved halfheartedly. She was now more confused and worried than ever.   
  
  
  
The shrines to the Atlantian gods were scattered across the ocean's depths, each hidden in a way so that no mortal man, or merman, could find them without aide. But Namor had the trident of Neptune, and this guided him directly to the god's sanctuary. The water there was unnaturally cold, and even Namor, who had grown to adulthood in the frozen seas of Antarctica, shivered slightly as he swam up to the altar. He carefully set the trident atop the beautifully carved stone. Something stirred, and if it were possible, even more heat seemed to be sucked from the room. Namor gasped. There before him was the image of the great Neptune, regal, brave, but also, it seemed, sad...   
  
"I know of Atlantis' pain, good Prince," he spoke without really speaking, the words seeming to form within Namor's mind, "And I love her as much as you, for she is my city as much as yours."   
  
With an unsure voice, Namor adressed him, "My Lord, if indeed you love fair Atlantis, help save her. The humans seek to distroy her, to kill her people. I ask that you intervene, stop them in their vile deed!"   
  
"You wish me to stop the humans?" He seemed to consider, "You have been loyal to me, and you are of good heart. I will do this for you." Namor practically fell over. "_But_," the Prince's throat tightened just as quickly, "a request like this comes not without price."   
  
"I would do anything to keep Atlantis safe."   
  
"You must never go back!"   
  
  
  
A/N: Well, Mark, how's that? Only 2 months late! =D 


	5. V

Marching is a long, droning thing - the sound imbedded into every child of the last century, put into their minds as a frightful symbol of some impending, unstoppable evil. Atlantis' great halls knew the sound well, but there it had always been a sound of joy. When the soldiers were marching, orderly, through her maze-like corridors, peace had reigned. If a soldier had time to place his steps, there was also time to laugh and play and live. Now the great city shuddered at the approaching thunder. Thousands of footsteps, unnaturally slow in the depths, grew louder by the moment.  
  
On the outskirts of the city, like some great chieftess of old, Namorita commanded the mighty Atlantian army. She was strong there, unbreakable. She seemed the only sane in a litteral sea of insane. The army, down to the very Royal Guard had been secured out along the lines. But they were not prepared for battle - most were young, teens barely old enough to go on a tuna hunt that had signed up for millitary duty to be done with their required service. The Guard... it seemed to the princess that the Guard had lost many of its number in a very short span of time. They were still few, even so. Nothing seemed to be going right, yet the royal stood her ground. She had said she could hold off the Humans. She would. She had to. Until Namor returned.  
  
Nita sighed and looked up, towards the surface. The sun shone very dimly, a simple dot in the dark waters. But it had made its cycle and come again... So where was Namor?  
  
-  
  
Two armies clashed. Simple, in a way. Two opposing currents meeting. But it wasn't simple.  
  
The deadly thunder came closer. Atlantian troops found themselves dealing with more than just the oncoming storm. Beasts of burden started at the noise. Several holding precious cannon shot ran off, wild and loose from their reigns. Young, untrained soldiers froze, unable to lift their weapons. Others simply fell to their knees in prayer. More still were overcome with the true weight of the battle they now fought - before, they had fought for Atlantis, now they fought for their very race.  
  
The first line of Humans came through the dim, fog-like atmosphere. They were armored from head to toe, carrying modified rifles topped with bayonets. They moved slowly, almost comically along the ocean bottom. But their eyes... their eyes held no humor. They were full of young, offended fury. Of fear and anger and of being wronged in a way they really didn't understand. They were confused. But any Atlantian knew that a confused shark is always the most dangerous.  
  
The defending army readied.  
  
Two opposing currents met.  
  
And a storm was born.  
  
-  
  
Amid the ruins of a long-fallen temple, Namor stood alone. In his hand he held a single seaweed bulb, his gift from the immortal Posiedon. He had but to work its magic inside of glorious Atlantis to save her, bless her forever... He closed his fingers around it. Yes, he would gladly give up his very kingdom, if only to preserve her, to preserve his people...  
  
A strong rope landed about his shoulders. The prince looked down in suprise, unsure of what he saw. The rope tightened before he could react. It pulled him hard towards razor-sharp coral, slamming him against it, shattering the delicate structure and slicing a fair gash in his forehead*. Blood pooled in the water near him. He now acted much quicker, pulling back on the strangely metallic-looking rope with his great strength. It pulled through a fissue in the coral, hissing terribly, until a figure smashed through. A torn and bloodied body flew into a fallen column with a sickening smack. Namor threw the rope from about his neck with a snarl. "Who dares-- ?" He began, but more ropes landed apon him, pulled at him like a rag doll. Several more bodies, some conscious and some not, landed against various rock and coral faces. But there were still more of the metal ropes. They tangled about him, making even removing them difficult. He roared, struggling, but they did not break.  
  
"Don't bother," a voice from behind him said, even as more ropes came apon him, forcing the prince to his knees, "they're made of adamantium. It's indestructable, as I'm sure you know."  
  
Namor turned. There, beside the broken coral, stood an Atlantian man, dressed in a very modified royal officer's uniform. He didn't have the typical ray gun or trident of an officer, but an American underwater machine gun at his hip. This he happily pointed at the monarch. "You... attack me? Who are you that would do this treasonous act?" Namor spoke behind well-clenched teeth, "You are of a kind to those who now give their lives for their city! How can you forsake her? Is she not yours as well?"  
  
"Mine?" The Atlantian laughed, "Yes, Atlantis will be mine, you fool. I am Merric, the future king of the golden halls! And you... you are nothing anymore." The machine gun was cocked and raised at the prince. Namor clenched his teeth. He knew well the bullets would do little... but madmen, for it was plain that this was indeed a madman, acted on impulse alone. He had been called mad several times, but no... he thought things out. With speed that the other could not track, he grabbed a splinter of sharp coral in his mostly-free hand and threw it at Merric. It sliced through his neck, cutting the blood-rich gills to shreds. The former Guardsman let out a howl, grasping his neck as his bright red blood spilled out into the surrounding waters.  
  
Namor grinned slightly from the ground, "You have forgotten something that should have been burned into you as a pup, Merric--"  
  
A large shark grabbed the bleeding Atlantian around the shoulder, picking him up off the ocean floor.  
  
"--blood brings sharks."  
  
Namor did not watch the beasts devour him. Instead, he turned to freeing himself, and to the sand. He ran his fingers through it, searching... He pulled up the bulb. It was warm, calming, even. He stood there, only for a moment, and thought of his city. Then, as swift as any other creature of the deep, he was gone.  
  
-  
  
The armies, for all their differences, were evenly matched. The Humans were slow to react, and though they had superior weaponry, the Atlantians were swift and aimed their tridents well. A hard jab or knock and the Humans' air tanks ruptured. The resulting explosion would not only make its' owner unable to fight, but quite possibly send several other members of the Humans' close-packed ranks sprawling across the sandy floor. For this, the Atlantians held their ground. But the army was not the only danger. Ships from above rained down depth charges that hit anything in their path. Millitary dugouts and civilian homes alike were blown apart. It also served to scatter the already panicked undersea forces and to further agitate the land-sent army. Atlantian field commanders tried their best to keep their charges in line. Frightened Humans of many nations ignored their radio- beamed orders and swam up to the surface. Chaos.  
  
Nita swam along the battle lines, offering words of encouragement where she could, trying to keep the spirits up until the prince arrived. She was not greeted enthusiastically - to any Atlantian general, field officer, or soldier, "holding the line" is one step away from defeat. And, it seemed, that the swarm of Humans saw no end. Their ranks dissapeared into the mists, their number immeasurable. She wanted very badly to take action as her cousin would, to fly above the ships dropping their deadly cargo and to drop down apon them, ripping steel and iron and ending their destruction. But Vashti had told her to stay her ground. The soldiers needed to see their princess there, needed hope that they could win. She turned suddenly as a cheer went up from the Atlantian lines. They had pushed back the Humans ever so slightly, but that was enough.  
  
The joy was short lived. The line broke just in front of Nita, Human troops rushing clumsily in. She swam at them, sending as many back as she could. Confused, she then swam up to see what had happened. She didn't believe her eyes. No, she couldn't believe it. Atlantians, nearly two hundred fully armed Royal Guardsmen had now joined the fray... on the side of the Humans.  
  
The lines fell back. The Atlantians were confused and tired, and now began to doubt their place. A break in the line formed, and then another. Humans flowed inward in their slow, loping way. Atlantians followed. The lines that had once been held were now scattered masses of soldiers, huddled in tight balls and unable to fight.  
  
Nita swallowed hard. 'No,' she thought, 'this can't be...'  
  
"Atlantis is lost."  
  
"...so quick to condemn, little cousin?"  
  
Nita's head shot up. There, floating just beside her in the oddly serine current, was Namor. And, strange as it was, he was smiling. "Namor! You're back! I- I think..."  
  
"Think nothing for now. Only make way to the palace, for the gods have given great Atlantis a gift."  
  
Namor entered the throneroom slowly, seemingly seeing it for the first time, his eyes open to behold a wonder unknown to mortals. Nita watched him, curious of his strange manner and single, closed fist. She put a hand to his shoulder. He turned to her, a sad smile on his face. "I will miss this."  
  
Nita was confused, "Miss what?"  
  
"Atlantis. My people." He kissed her lightly on the forehead, "Family."  
  
"I... don't understand."  
  
Namor turned to the destruction outside, to the advancing Human troops. "You don't have to. Not yet." The Humans had reached the palace gates. "Know, though you are young, you will lead Atlantis as a fine Queen. You proved that today, as you have proved it in the past."  
  
Still, confusion, "I let Atlantis down! Look! The surfacemen have WON!"  
  
The Prince saw the gate come down, but simply smiled at his cousin. "If not for you, Atlantis would not have made it this far." He took her hand in his, opening his clenched fist into hers. A warmth filled them both. "I will contact you and tell you what has happened today, but not now. Farewell cousin! Rule well!"  
  
As a blinding light filled the room, Namor swam away as fast as he could.  
  
Humans reaching for the door to the throneroom were pulled back by some unknown force. Fighters down below were forced apart, the Humans dragged, unwilling, out of the city. Depth charges stopped in their decent and reversed direction, returning ot the ships which deployed them. Within a matter of minutes, only Atlantians were left in the streets. And, as they came out of their broken homes, the mud and stone and shell began to repair itself. Atlantis was whole again.  
  
Within a day, all was returned to normal. Dead no longer lay dead, on either side, and it was as if no battle had occured at all. Atlantians rejoiced in the streets, out in front of the palace gates, now upright once more. They had no fear of the Humans who awoke just outside of the city. No creature, be he man, beast, or god, could now enter the fair city with evil in his heart.  
  
-  
  
Namor found himself sitting in a New York diner, watching the news of Atlantis on the overhead TV. Though he'd never see her again, Atlantis was safe, now and forever. That's all he'd ever wanted. Somehow, it had lifted a great weight off his shoulders. Just knowing that the golden halls would lay untouched, that his people would never have to fear another threat against them... He smiled.  
  
Still, his business on the land lay unfinished. He had saved his people, and now it seemed, he turned to save another. The Americans still looked to their false god, their idol, Aeyson, to lead them. Namor had seen how easily they had been swayed to war - how long would it be until they were swayed to something much worse?  
  
-  
  
The End?  
  
Not by a long shot!  
  
Author's Notes: Well, ladies and gents (mostly just "gent", hey Mark!), Long Live is finally "done". But its' companion, and a way to tie up all these beautifully frayed loose ends, will come soon in the form of "White Knight". That would be the entire shinanigan from Jim Hammond's (The Original Human Torch) point of view. It'll cover Thane's assistant, happenings in post-Long Live Atlantis, and hopefully give a smoother transition into a planned series. (Yeah, yeah, I know - I can't even keep a story up, and I want to do a series...) Not to mention a whole lotta Torchy goodness! Mmm, android!  
  
More Author's Notes: Did ya' notice that little "*" up there? Yeah, that one. Okay, I figured something... Namor isn't hurt by bullets because they're too blunt to peirce his skin. However, something as thin as a razor (like coral) could manage to cut him, though not deeply. Just to clear that up. ^_^ 


End file.
